Lost Legion
by Dragon14
Summary: A washed-up minor league baseball player is in for the fight of his life when he a finds himself part of the Roman Legion.
1. Default Chapter

* * *

Jump to Part II

Jump to Part III 

* * *

**Part I: A Rude Awakening **

The sun was bright that morning. Jackson Vandal reminded himself that he needed curtains for the bedroom, or maybe nail some sheets up. He rolled over, grunting in annoyance. He found his bed very hard, uncomfortable, and smelling a lot worse than usual. He reached down for the bed sheet, feeling something furry and wet. _It had better not be a damn rat_, he thought, _or I'll give that landlord what for_. Opening his eyes, Vandal blearily focused on a horse.

The horse studied him, snorted, exhaling into his face and raised its head. Vandal gaped at the apparition for a moment, still not quite aware of his surroundings. It had been a rough night, heavy on the drinking with the boys from the factory. He had delighted them with stories from his minor league days, a few even remembered him and were willing to pay for some drinks.

He wondered how he had managed to drag a horse into his tiny apartment. Then he wondered why he had brought home a horse. Glancing around, he saw he was outside. Did he even remember getting home? Vandal noticed he was surrounded by several men, all staring at him in a semi-circle dressed like something out of _Sparticus_. He had seen it on the late show awhile back and quite enjoyed it.

'Hey,' he said, grinning, 'Where's Chuck Heston?' Vandal laughed at that. He was always witty when waking up from a bender.

On of the men poked him with the butt end of a spear he carried. Vandal pushed it aside and stared at the men in irritation.

'State your name and land from whence you came,' said the man, all glittery in his fancy armor.

Vandal tried to stand up and found his legs were still a little wobbly from the whiskey, 'Look, buddy, sorry to break up your little re-enactment or whatever you have going on but can the fancy-ass talking, ok? I'll just be on my way.'

He would have left had not the men barred his way. Vandal felt his anger rise, the hangover was not helping matters in the least. He reached out to shove his way through when someone kicked his legs out from under him. He fell in a heap. Cursing, he hauled himself out of the mud when another cracked him in the legs with the length of a spear.

'Jesus Christ, what the hell? You want me to call the cops? I will, you know. That's assault.' Vandal reached for his cell phone, found it missing along with his wallet and everything else in his pockets. He began to wonder just what had happened to him the night before. His brain, still a little drunk, piped up that it must of been fun. Vandal giggled a little at that.

'Who do you suppose he is?' one of the younger men asked.

'No doubt a spy. We've seen no one for the longest time. This fool must have been following us for Aediphus and fallen asleep. Little too much drink, from the smell of him.'

'What strange clothes he has,' said another.

'Typical barbarian. Cannot even wash themselves. Look at this slob.'

Vandal realized they were talking about him, insulting his personal hygiene. "Hey fellas, I ain't the one dressed like a bunch of tin-plated fruits, all right? You're the ones playing at war here. Now you bastards lemme up.'

'Oh gods. Here comes the _Legatus_ himself. This one is done for sure.'

Vandal watched as a large man approached the group. His armor shone in the sun, vastly different from the common soldiers around Vandal. So encrusted with decorations it almost to the point of the ludicrous. His cloak was made of finely woven material, thrown around his shoulders. Behind him strode six more men, all astride armored horses. Vandal noticed that the horse that rudely woke up was a packhorse. The little voice in his head began to pipe a warning but the rest of his body largely ignored it. The man identified as the _Legatus_ (whatever that is, thought Vandal) jumped off his large mount.

'Why the delay? This _Contubernium_ should be setting up the tent.'

'Sorry, Legatus, but we have encountered a spy.'

The Legatus stern eyes moved the Vandal. Despite the absurd outfit, Vandal was a little afraid of the iron-faced man.

'Spy? This piece of garbage? I should hardly think so.'

'But, sir, he was on the edge of our encampment.'

The Legatus reached down and hauled Vandal to his feet. Vandal yelped in pain but could not break free from the man's strong grip. The older man grabbed Vandal by the wrist and twisted so the palm faced the other men. Vandal was forced to his knees else his arm would snap in two.

'Look at this hand. No calluses. His belly hangs from his shirt,' the Legatus kicked angrily into Vandal's torso, 'he reeks of booze and vomit. Bah. He even wears _bracae!_'

The other men laughed at that. Vandal looked around fearfully, the enormity of the situation beginning to dawn on him. He noticed they were pointing at his pants when the older man had said _bracae_.

'No doubt, men, we have found the toy of some Senator or well-to-do merchant in our midst. Lost from a caravan, perhaps. He saw the lights of our camp and believed he'd find a nice bed and warm meal,' the Legatus punched Vandal hard in the stomach, causing him to double over in pain, 'Never known a hard days work, this one. But the poor fool is in Roman territory and privy to Roman laws! What say you all? Does not a state of war exist?'

'Aye, so it does,' one of the men yelled merrily.

The Legatus eyes scanned through the rest of the encampment, looking for a distinct color of shield carried by a soldier. He yelled at the young man when he found it, ordering him to approach. The man came at a run.

'You, let me see your _scutum_,' the young man displayed his shield, 'Dadeus Remulus Marcus,' he read, 'Under command of Centurion Glaceius of the 2nd Cohort?'

'Yes sir.'

'We have a new recruit, Marcus. Take this piece of filth to the _Praefectus Castroum_ for equipment at once.'

The Legatus threw Vandal to the ground in front of Marcus, accompanied by the jeers of the men around him. Marcus saluted the Commander of the Legion then half-carried, half-dragged Vandal to the tent of the equipment officer.

* * *

'What's going on here? Vandal asked. He stopped a moment, Marcus allowing him to catch his breath from the beating he had taken. 'Where the hell am I?'

'You're in the 12th Roman Legion encampment. Don't you know that?

'No, there are no 'Roman Legions' in New Jersey.'

'New Jersey? I do not know that place. Is it very far from here?'

'No, unless those jerks at the bar put me on a train. If that's the case, I'll get 'em back. Right after I sue that a-hole what beat me up. Where's the phone?'

'Your words are very strange to me. I do not know what you're asking.'

'Taking this a little too far, ain't ya? Phone? Tele-phone?' he held his hand to his face, mimicking talking into a phone, 'Hello? Yadda-yadda-yadda? Get me a lawyer?'

'Lawyer I know. But there are none out here. We are on patrol.'

'Really. Well, what are we patrolling then?' Vandal turned in a circle, surveying the camp, 'Man there is a lot of people here.'

'We have around 600 soldiers on patrol with us. We had many more but our encounters with Adephus' Legion had dwindled our ranks. It has been many a day since word has come from our border fortress. No sign of re-enforcement. That must be why the commander decided to recruit you.'

'Recruit me? Listen pal, I'm an American citizen and we have rights.'

'I thought you came from New Jersey.'

'Don't play stupid with me, boy. I was the highest ranked minor league ball player in my day. I think I have my players card somewhere....anyway, stop acting stupid with me.'

'All I know is you were found in Roman territory and therefore our laws apply to you. You are of recruitment age and are now a member of our army if the Legatus wished it so. Now, come with me so we can get you some equipment.'

'And food? I'm starved. Do we get fed here?'

'Of course. The Legion is not a bunch of barbarians such as you are used to. The Legion is family. It is life.'

'Yeah, whatever. From the look of you guys, you're fed well. You're in better shape than most of the athletes I played with.'

'You are an athlete?' Marcus asked incredulously, 'I would never have guessed at that. You do not appear to be a gladiator.'

'A what? You mean like in that movie? Lord, you people really go all out in these games. Tell you what, you get some food in my gut and maybe I'll play along in your little game here. I don't have anything else to do.'

**Part II: Legionnaire**

Marcus took Vandal to see the _Praefectus Castorum _for his equipment. It took quite some time to find the proper armour to fit Vandal, despite the large number of discarded equipment from the dead soldiers. Most of the armour had sword holes and the Castorum would not have any of his men wearing shoddy equipment. Soon Vandal had everything they needed and the two men retired to their assigned tent. The rest of Marcus's Contubernium were in the field on patrol, Marcus having been ordered to oversee Vandal. 

'Remove you clothing so we may outfit properly, Vandal. Especially the bracae. Among out people only women wear them.' 

'Whatever. Hey, do we get paid for this thing, too?'

'Of course. 225 denarii a year.'

'What, you do this stuff year-round?' 

'Yes. We are professional soldiers in the Legion.' 

'Man, that is just nutty. Anyway, I think I'll just stick around for the day if it's all the same to you. Now, what goes on first here?' 

'This tunic and linen undergarments first. They will protect you from chaffing.' 

'Ok, fine.' 

Marcus picked up Vandal's pants and studied them closely. 'What strange material this is.' 

'It's denim for God's sake. I wish you'd drop the act, please. Hey, are you maybe European...you have a pretty weird accent.' 

'As do you. Where is this 'denim' made?' 

'I only wear stuff made in the good ol' U.S of A. None of that foreign crap for me.' 

Marcus gave a quick tug and tore Vandal's pants cleanly in half. 'What shoddy craftsmanship,' he muttered, dropping them and picking up Vandal's shoes. Vandal just stood, gap-mouthed.

'What interesting footwear. Are these made in your U.S. of A country as well?' 

'Well, no. But when I played in the minors they paid me to wear Reebok. So I still do. Careful with those, now. They are very expensive.' Vandal went back to trying to put on the boots Marcus instructed him to wear. They were a strange kind of sandal with a very thick sole. An elaborate series of leather straps wound themselves up his shins. Vandal was having trouble tying them off when we heard another tearing. Marcus had pried the rubber sole from the running shoes. Once again he threw them to the ground in disgust and looked at the amazed Vandal. 

'Such poor quality. These shoes of yours would not last a single march. You should be glad we are giving goods that have obvious quality and care given to their craftsmanship.' 

'You, my friend, owe me BIG when this day is over. You got that. Tell you what, you let me keep these fancy duds and we'll call it even.' 

'They are yours already, Jackson. I told you that.'

Vandal smiled, looking at the equipment given and said, 'Good. I'll get a pretty penny for this stuff. It's damn near authentic.' 

'I don't know what that means, but here...I will help you.' 

Marcus assisted Vandal in putting on what he called the _lorica segmentata_, the main part of amour that protected the torso. It consisted of a series of overlapping strips attached on the inside by leather straps. It took little time to put on as it was a complete unit and laced up the front. Marcus then gave Vandal a scarf to wear, to protect his neck from chaffing. 

'Hey, what about my goodies?' Vandal asked, looking down at his groin. 

'Beg your pardon?' 

'Do I get a cup at least? You know, to protect my boys down below.' 

'Umm...don't worry...about your...boys.' 

Marcus handed Vandal a wide belt and wrapped it around him. The front had a number of leather thongs with riveted metal plates attached and weighted bronze terminals. It swung easily, allowing Vandal freedom of movement and protection of his nether regions. Next came the helmet, made of bronze with a iron skullcap. The back had a descending portion for protection, and two large hinged pieces that hung down the cheeks of the face and fastened at the bottom. 

'Your _scutum_ is outside.' 

'My scrotum?' 

'Scutum. You know, shield. It bears the color of our legion and will later be decorated with your name and that of your Centurion. It has a strap for you to wear over you shoulder when we march. I will show you later.' Marcus then pointed to a seven-foot javelin leaning against a post, calling it the _pilum_. This was to be Vandal's chief weapon. 

'The tip,' Marcus said gesturing to the top three feet of the weapon, 'is made of a weaker iron. It will penetrate your enemy's body and will bend, making it very hard to remove.' 

'Yeah, but ours are rubber, right?' 

'Rubber?' Marcus said, confused. 

'Never mind, what's next? I'm starting to enjoy this.' 

Marcus picked up the _gladius_, a double-bladed two foot long, two inch wide sword with a corrugated bone handle. Vandal whistled as he saw it. Marcus informed him it was to be used in short-range combat, waving it in a thrusting fashion. Sheathing it, he placed it high on Vandal's side, clear of his shield arm and legs. On the opposite side he fitted the _pugio_, a dagger. Vandal moved around, enjoying the feeling of real armour. He felt like a kid again. Moving quickly, he drew his gladius and waved it around, striking himself in the back of the head with the flat of the blade. 

'Christ, this thing is real!' 

'Be careful, Jackson. You very nearly took your head off. I will show you how to wield a blade properly later. Now you must stow the rest of your things.' 

'What? I can barely move as it is.' 

Marcus dumped out a large sack they had picked up at the equipment officer's tent. Vandal stared at the equipment on the floor. Arrayed there was a saw, a wicker basket for shifting earth, rope, a sickel and a pickaxe with its edges covered in a bronze sheath. These would be carried on a _pila muralia_, a forked pole, which would rest across his shoulders during a march. 

'Hey, now Marcus. I was in the Reserves for a few weeks before I was tossed out. I know we're only supposed to carry 66 pounds. This is a little much.' 

'We have no such rules. Every man in the Legion must carry this. Along with your water and rations. We'll get those later. Hurray and gear up.' 

'Why now?,' Vandal muttered angrily. 

'Because we must meet your Centurion! We have the honor of serving under Glaceius, the finest officer in the Legion. He would have been promoted long ago if his father had not fallen out of the Senate...but make no mention of that! Then, after we have presented him to you, I'll start your training.' 

'Oh good,' Vandal cursed, groaning under the weight. 

**Part III: Dark Tidings **

Jackson Vandal was dying. 

Of that fact there could be no dispute. His limbs were aflame, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He lay on his cot, near death. The men around him that formed his battle group ignored his pain and pleas for help. Only his friend Marcus gave him any heed, but even the gentle Marcus had trouble hiding his disdain for the man. 

_They hate me_, Vandal thought, _and they mean to see me dead!_ Vandal reached out and grabbed Marcus' arm. Gritting his teeth, he barely managed to speak. 

'Marcus,' he pleaded, 'for pity's sake help me. I need a drink.' 

'Of course, Jackson. Here, I will help you. Drink this.' 

Vandal slapped the jug away from him, 'No, dammit! I said I need a drink! Not water but beer, man! Beer!' 

'We have no alcohol, Jackson. I told you that.' 

'I'm dying, Marcus. Surely you 'Romans' have some sort of honor-bound pledge to help a dying man?' 

'You are not dying, Jackson.' 

'The hell you say! I'm in pain, man!'

Marcus sighed deeply, 'One would think that you have never exercised before. I thought you said you were an athlete.' 

'I was. I mean, I am. But you guys go a little too far. Christ, I can barely move in this damn outfit. Then you go and give me all that damn equipment and weapons. It's a wonder my spine didn't telescope.' 

'Every man in the Legion must carry the same,' Marcus said tiredly, 'and be expected to know how to use it. It is not our fault you do not have such obligations in this 'America' country you speak of.' 

'Listen, pal of mine, we're a hell of a lot more advanced than you smucks are. Why the hell you insist on dressing up like you do and pretending you're centuries behind the times is beyond me. I wish to God you guys would drop this charade and talk like civilized people.' 

Marcus turned towards Vandal, 'We are not civilized? You cannot even start a fire! Or hunt for food! Or even use a weapon! You claim this place you come from is so much better and advanced than ours but you would die here if left to your own devices!' 

'Humph, you're lucky I can't lift my arms buddy, or there'd be hell to pay for that.' 

'Judging from the way you used your gladius today, a crippled cow would have little to fear from you.' 

Vandal was about to respond to that when a hush fell over the group. One of the men had been posted in the front of the tent, and whispered in to his comrades. 

'Aediphus aides have arrived. They are moving to the centre of the camp. Glaceius and the Legatus are about to meet with them.' 

With a titanic effort, Vandal managed to haul himself into a sitting position. 'What's going on Marcus?' 

'The remaining officers of Aediphus are meeting with our Legatus. Perhaps they mean to end this little war he has started.' 

'Didn't you say your armies are pretty much equal and that you've been chasing him for weeks?' 

'Yes.'

'Well, what does the script say?' 

'Script?' 

'Yes, the damn script! Christ, you people are just re-enactors aren't you? What is supposed to come next in your game?' 

Marcus turned to Vandal, anger showing in his eyes for the first time, 'Jackson Vandal, listen very closely to me. This is not a game. We are soldiers in the Roman Legion. As are you now. Today I instructed you in the use of the weapons that you will be carrying into battle. And there will be a battle, mark my words. Aediphus is after something and his Legion of the Damned will not stop until they find it. It is our job to stop him. You are going to help us to do that. Or you will die on the field of battle, branded a coward.' 

Vandal stared into the hard eyes of Marcus, then erupted into laughter. 

'Man, you had me going there, Marcus. Damn, here's you Academy Award! So, is there going to be cameras and stuff for this 'battle'? Hey, are they here now?' 

Marcus stood and left, snorting in disgust. 

* * *

The men in Marcus' group gathered outside. Vandal remained on his cot, stretched out and snoring loudly. No one paid him any attention except for the occasional dirty look or sneer. Several commented on the patience Marcus showed with the obviously deranged and ill-breed man, but Marcus shrugged them off. He was only doing his duty for the Legion. 

One man was hunched, turning a metal pole in the fire, checking to see if it had reached the proper temperature. Several of the newer soldiers rubbed their arms absently when they glanced at the metal rod, the older soldiers smiled knowingly. Most of this group were younger soldiers but the veteran Centurion Glaceius would train these into the steel that was the Legion. They began to tell tales they knew of the legendary Roman soldier when he appeared from the gloom of the setting sun. They hushed and dropped their eyes. 

Glaceius approached the fire and warmed his hands. He looked questioningly at the metal pole. 

'It is for the new soldier,' said one, 'we were about to brand him with the Mark of the Legion.' 

Glaceius inhaled deeply, his handsome blue eyes looking to the mountains, 'No time for that. Gather yourselves. Aediphus takes to the field.' 

The men gaped in excitement, several running off to gather their gear for battle. Marcus stood stock still, his brow furrowed in confusion. 

'Question, soldier?' Glaceius asked, a smile on his face. 

'Yes, Centurion. Why would Aediphus take to the field at this hour? It will be full dark soon. It's foolish.' 

'The moon rises. It will be full. Enough light to wage a battle. Enough, but just barely. He is a strange on, this Aediphus. He dresses his soldiers all in black. Their symbol atop their Standard is a simple skull. No adornments or decorations.' 

Glaceius was quiet a moment longer then rested his hand on the younger man's shoulder, 'The night will be a long one, Marcus. I entrust you to watch over that new soldier. He may be trouble. You are the only one I believe can do this. The others are very young.' 

'Of course, Centurion.' 

Glaceius removed the rod from the fire and studied the mark, glowing a fierce red. Marcus looked at his shoulder, to the matching mark imprinted on his skin. 

'Time enough for this tomorrow, Marcus. If we live to see the dawn.' 

* * *

The armies of the 12th Legion gathered in the field, the setting sun glinting off their armour in hues of gold and purple. Its dying light painted the tips of their javelins red; a prelude of what was to come.

Divided into blocks down they line, they marched as one towards Aediphus' Legion of the Damned, as they became known. Vandal's group was stationed to the rear of the line. It was their job to move about the rear after the battle started and seal any breaks, to reinforce where needed. This was a typical position given to newer Legion soldiers. 

Glaceius sat on his mount, his eyes cold in the dawning night. His staff rested against his leg, both a weapon and tool to instill discipline in his men. Here, however, his reputation as a soldier guaranteed that. At least, with all but one of the men. 

'Hey, Marcus,' Vandal said loudly, 'what do I do again?' 

'Just follow my lead, Jackson.' 

'Yeah, ok. I don't see any cameras though. That's kinda weird. I thought that someone would wanna catch this on film. Must be a twelve hundred men here! Crazy.' He looked up, sighting a few stars beginning to bloom in the sky, 'You know, I haven't seen any jet trails for the longest time too' 

'Quiet in the ranks,' Glaceius said. 

Vandal leaned in close to Marcus, 'Betcha glad you're not that idiot who has to carry around that big pole, huh?' 

'That 'big pole' is our standard, Jackson! The man who carries it is second to the Centurion and holder of the money we will be paid. It is a honor each of us wish for to carry it to battle. We would all give our lives to never see it fall or an enemy so much as touch it.' 

'O-K, fine. It's still a crap job if you ask me.' 

The black-clothed army across from them began to move. Ahead of Vandal, the forward line began to march. The staccato beat of booted feet and armour jingling sounded almost musical. On opposite sides of the army, the small cavalry spread out to prevent any flanking maneuvers. Glaceius knew, from years of experience, Aediphus would give no quarter. Whatever he was after he wanted this Legion removed from his plans. He ordered his group to advance. 

Vandal began to move forward, a happy smile on his face. His armour itched and stretched around his belly, pinching him in places. His shield was way to heavy and the sword strapped around his middle really began to weigh him down. Still, it was kinda fun, he thought. Halfway through he lowered his javelin and bounced it off the ground. It gave a hollow ringing sound. He stopped marching, a frown deepening into his features. Men cursed around him. 

'Marcus, I still have that real weapon. Shouldn't I have a rubber tipped one? Someone might get hurt out here.' He looked around and began to realize, to his horror, everyone else had real weapons too. Shocked, he looked across the field to the advancing army and saw they were lethally armed. 

'Jesus Christ! You mean to really fight out here!' 

'Jackson, return to your position in the line!' Marcus said desperately. 

'Holy God, you're going to try to kill each other out here! What the hell is wrong with you people?' 

'Return to the line before Glaceius kills you for disobedience and cowardice, Jackson. You're in the Legion now.' 

'What? I don't understand' 

'Fight or die, Jackson. Fight or die.' 

* * *

Go To Part IV


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter IV: Revelations**

_Fight or die._

The words echoed in Vandal's mind as true fear gripped him. Fear few have ever known. It was the fear that coated him in foul smelling sweat, switched the knees to jelly and barely held him up, that turned his bowels to ice water.

'No,' he whispered, 'Marcus, you can't be serious about this!'

Marcus answered with nothing more that a swift nod of the head. Behind Vandal, the men shoved viciously, eager to enter the fray. Jackson staggered but did not fall, held up by his javelin. His eyes turned to it, the tip transformed to molten silver in the new Moon's light. He continued to swing his head back and forth, sweeping the land for a semblance of sanity.

To Vandal's way of thinking, he did not find it. Around him the 12th Legion continued to advance on the so-called Legion of the Damned. Their leader, Aediphus, sat on a massive war-horse. Unlike his soldiers and officers, he wore no armour. Instead he was draped in cloaks and robes of soft black velvet. His hood hid his features, hanging low over his face. In his hand dangled a gladius in a decidedly non-chalant fashion, as though he was bored with the entire affair. He gave every indication that he would be the first to meet the Roman soldiers.

Tears welled up in Vandal's eyes, blurring his vision, 'How can this be? Where the hell am I?' His voice rose to a scream, 'Where the hell _AM I?_'

Marcus grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back, 'Jackson, listen to me. Follow my lead and you will not be hurt. You have to do this, you are a Roman soldier now.'

'No!' Vandal yelled, his face turned red from the strain, 'Fuck you! Fuck you Marcus! You may be crazy enough to die, but not me! Screw you!' An image swam into his head, of the cartoon South Park. He was Cartman saying to his friends, 'Screw you guys, I'm going home.' He had to stifle a giggle. Realizing the absurdity of it all, Vandal wondered if perhaps he was losing his mind.

Vandal's delirious and panicky wondering were interrupted by the sound of the two armies meeting. Cries of the men screaming for blood and screaming from their wounds cut the still air. Vandal's groups surged forward, shoving and jostling him as he fought against Marcus. Images of the field flashed into his head, of the Romans pushing against him, of the two armies colliding, their respective colours of red and black mixing briefly into one. Here and there, showers of blood shot up and fell back onto the men like a grim rain. Centurion Glaceius's voice cut through the din and demanded that they firm their formation up. They were supposed to be moving along the line and provide the men support where it was needed. However, Vandal stopped them.

'Jackson,' Marcus ordered, 'return to the line.'

'No,' Vandal yelled like a petulant three year old, 'No. NO!'

* * *

Glaceius swore under his breath and turned toward his command. That fool newcomer, the soft, fat one had held the line up. Already breaks were beginning to form. He cast a quick look back at the battle. Horror broke over the Centurion as he saw Aediphus cut into the Romans like a knife through butter. His mighty horse lay on the ground, victim of a dozen javelins, but Aediphus paid it no heed. He tore through the defending soldiers as though they were made of paper.

Glaceius dug his heels into his mounts side and charged towards his men. He had no more time to spare for cowards. Expertly, he brought his mount to a dead halt in front of Vandal and lashed out with his scepter. Vandal's head snapped around from the blow and he fell to the ground. Had it not been for the helmet he wore and his quick reflexes, his head would have been split in two.

Marcus stared down at his fallen comrade, a mixture of disgust and compassion painted across his face. Glaceius' order to advance brought him out of his reverie and he raised his javelin to the stars. His battle cry blending with the screams.

* * *

Vandal gradually regained consciousness. The sounds of the battle grew from a faint, far-off sound to a loud crash into his temples. He groaned and began to sit up when blackness over-took him. He stomach heaved from the motion. Groaning, he clutched his head. The helmet he wore barely covered to the huge bump that had grown where Glaceius had struck him. He tried to shake off the nausea. His head was swimming, making it hard for him to think straight. He remembered being in a Roman Legion, but that could not be. He remembered the men around him hell-bent on killing themselves and dragging him with them. He wondered briefly if he had finally managed to drink himself into oblivion, but surely the after-life would not hurt this much.

Vandal risked opening his eyes. His head hurt far worse than any hangover he had ever had. Luckily, it was night and not day or his head would have exploded in pain once more. His vision swam and blurred in front of him, the land seeming to be covered in wet lumps all around him. Reaching out, he realized it was people. Terrified, he knew the nightmare was far from over.

The battle still raged around him but was quieter now. Vandal tried to stand but fell back into the blood soaked earth. Soldiers were splayed out all around him, hacked into horrible twisted remnants of the men they once were. Weeping, Vandal began to crawl away but could not find a path through the bodies. So covered in blood were they he could not tell which side they had fought for - their life-blood had turned all their uniforms to a chilling black. The coppery smell invaded Vandal and stuck in the back of his throat. He coughed and hacked but could not escape it.

A booted foot stomped down in front of his face, black robes wet with red liquid sweeping down around them. Vandal gasped and looked into the face of Aediphus, leader of the Legion of the Damned.

Aediphus stared down and through Jackson - only seeing another soldier to kill. His arm was wet up to the elbow from his defeated enemies, his sword completely covered in the red stuff. Where the flesh was not covered, it shone in the moonlight the purest colour of white. His hair hung long and limply, his eyes were bottomless black wells. Aediphus began to laugh, enjoying the horror twisting across Vandal's features as a scream of dismay and loathing was about to issue forth. Aediphus raised his arm and slashed down with his sword.

A flash of silver broke through Vandal's vision. The sound of metal on metal echoed in the night. Marcus was suddenly in front of Vandal and fighting a desperate battle against the enemy leader. Vandal again tried to get to his feet but his injury would not allow it. He collapsed, groaning. Marcus fought hard, his gladius flashing in the night. He had a natural skill coupled with training from the finest Centurion in the Legions. He parried and lashed out at his enemy, only to find his opponent carrying strength he had never seen, a speed unlike any opponent he had ever faced. He could barely keep track of the movements of Aediphus; only his training and instinct bore him through the fight. Their swords clashed time and again, the reverberations numbing Marcus's arm. Marcus began to doubt whether he could defeat Aediphus when his enemy slipped on the slick ground, momentarily distracting him. With all his strength and one desperate cry ripping out of his throat, he drove his gladius into the torso of his nemesis.

Aediphus staggered backwards from the force of the blow, his robes billowing out from behind him as the gladius burst through his back. Vandal let loose a cry of victory that was echoed by a smile across Marcus' face. The smile faded as a black, foul smelling substance gushed from the wound, covering Marcus's hands and arms. He looked at it questioningly, then into the face of his enemy, who should be quite dead.

Aediphus laughed, his mouth opening impossible wide, moonlight flashing on his extended canines. Reaching down he tore the offending blade from his chest and returned the favour. Vandal screamed from behind him, as he witnessed Marcus's deathblow.

Marcus was lifted clear off his feet as Aediphus plunged his weapon into him. First came the crunching sound of his armour being punched through, and then came the snapping of bone and sinew. The point of the blade erupted from his back like a newly formed volcano. A look of pain and shock flew over Marcus' features.

'Jackson,' he yelled, his breath frothy with blood, 'Save yourself...run...' His voice faded away.

Aediphus grunted savagely, twisting and jerking the blade further and further up Marcus's torso. Then, like a child bored of a new toy, he flung the man aside as one throws a pillow off a bed. Marcus landed with a hollow _thump_ next to Vandal. He looked into the dead eyes of his friend, muttering a prayer for the first time in his life. Blackness overcame him. Vandal slipped away, not fighting it in the least.

* * *

Vandal again awoke, even more surprised to find himself alive. His head pounded a little less, the nausea almost gone. He glanced down and saw why he had been left alone. With his obvious head injury, blood splattered clothes and chalk-white features, it was no wonder anyone looking at him would think him quite dead. He turned and observed the body of Marcus next to him.

Seeing the body of his friend, Vandal choked back a cry of sorrow. Reaching out, he brushed aside the young man's stray hair and was repelled by the feeling. Cold and hard, it was like touching a wax dummy. Vandal could not help but cry. He cradled the dead Roman's head against his shoulder.

'Marcus, I'm sorry. So very sorry.'

Vandal covered his face and began to cry in great heaving gulps. The kind of weeping that tore into the body and racked its sides. Marcus was as close to a friend as Vandal had had in a very long time. The man had shown patience and understanding unlike any other he had ever known. Vandal had returned the man's favour by letting him die. Anger came over him, mixing with his grief like water and sand on a beach. Vandal accepted where he was for the first time. He did not know how or why but he knew the voice in his head whispered the truth. For some reason, he was in a Roman Legion. His refusal to accept his situation had led to the death of the only good person he would ever know. Vandal railed at the fates for it.

Far off, he heard the distinct sound of metal on metal. Vandal had come to know that sound quite well the last few hours. Cautiously he raised himself to his knees, aware of his head injury and the continued ringing in his ears. This time, however, he did not faint.

In the distance he saw Glaceius defending against three of the black-garbed soldiers. He favoured one leg over the other, a river of blood running down and pooling around his sandled foot. Glaceius was good but everyone had his limits. Without help, he would soon discover his. Vandal quickly took in the scene around him, eager to find another friendly Roman.

There was only the dead. The horizon began to turn a fierce orange heralding the coming dawn. _Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning_ sprang into his mind. He did not bother to wonder where such thoughts came from. Without them he presumed, he would go mad. _They're all dead_, he thought _the black eyed monster killed them all! _

The anger that was growing in him became a full-on inferno. Vandal rose to his feet and turned back towards the fight a distance away. Glaceius had fallen back, the three slowly advancing towards him. They were taking their time, not overly eager to confront the veteran but knowing there was only one way it could end.

_Wrong_, Vandal thought viciously, _this day is not done yet. _

Vandal reached down and lifted up a smooth round stone. It was about the size of a baseball. He knew that on the battlefield his abilities where far inferior to these experienced warriors but he had other talents to draw on. Vandal had been the best damn pitcher in the minors and would have made the big time if not for his loud mouth and thirst for drink. _Probably cured of that; I'm not thirsty at all. Who would've thought that? I should want to be pissy drunk right now. _

Vandal took a pitchers pose and released the rock straight at one of the enemy's head. The rock was easily surpassing a hundred miles an hour when it connected square in the forehead. There was a dull _thunk_, the man's eyes losing their light and his helmet deforming from the blow. He flew back a few feet and remained very still.

Vandal did not wait for his companion to recover from the shock of seeing his friend collapse. Vandal charged at him, running full tilt. He drew out his gladius and for the first time, recognized how it felt like a bat in his hands. The man was bent over his friend, momentarily confused when he saw Vandal's charge. Turning towards his attacker, he dropped his javelin and tried to draw his sword for close combat when Vandal swung for the fences.

The flat of the blade connected solidly with the man's head, snapping it around and dropping him. He fell to the ground, bounced once and then was as still as his friend. Vandal was breathing hard, his hand clenched around the bone handle of his weapon when he heard a grunt behind him. Whirling around, he was just in time to see Glaceius dispatch the third attacker. Their eyes met.

'I see you have found your backbone,' Glaceius said through gritted teeth.

'Lucky for you,' Vandal retorted.

* * *

Go To Part V


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter V: Understandings**

The sun rose fitfully, its pale light giving little warmth as though it wanted no part of the horrendous landscape. It seemed to speed across the sky, eager for the horizon and the blessings of the night. 

Carrion birds began to gather in the sky, their piercing cries shattering the stillness. The shadows of the scavengers weaved an intricate web on the bodies below. Soon they would select the choicest pickings. For now, however, only two figures moved among the wreckage of the land. Jackson Vandal searched for the weapon of his fallen friend, Centurion Glaceius for the traces of his surviving enemies. 

Vandal hunted for Marcus's _pilum_, moving aside the dead with a grimace. He was amazed at how quickly he adapted to the carnage around him. Their twisted features had blurred into one shapeless form, their faces into a single amalgamation that would later haunt him for the rest of his days. The smell no longer bothered him; the sights no longer disturbed him. He pondered on this a short while, but could find no deep meaning in his tired mind. Now there was only the lost weapon. 

He found it not far from where his friend had fought his final battle. Broken in half, a gaily coloured cloth tied to it fluttered in the mild breeze. Vandal unraveled it then returned to Marcus' side. There, he placed the cloth in Marcus's hand and closed the cold fingers around it. Wiping his eyes, he removed his own scarf and covered Marcus's face. He had tried to close the wide and staring eyes, but it was not like on television. No simple and gentle moving of the eyelids. No, Marcus stared unending into the unfeeling sky. This, more than anything, saddened Vandal. 

The sound of Glaceius' hobbled approach brought him out of his reverie. The two men had not exchanged many words, _probably due to shock_, surmised Vandal. Vandal had expected recriminations from the high ranking Roman but received none. In comparison to the events that had transpired, a minor act of cowardice seemed to matter little. 

Glaceius gestured to the makeshift bandage around his leg, 'You did good work on this.' 

Vandal only nodded, 'Marcus told me that his bride-to-be gave him this. He was supposed to return it to her on their wedding day. I just thought it was another overly-dramatic part of the game,' he shook his head bitterly, 'Did you find anything?' 

'Aediphus and three others fled up that path leading into the mountains. He must have taken his entourage, as I can find no sign of them. I expected that from Dragus.'

'Dragus?'

'He was the personal assistant to the Emperor until Aediphus returned from his banishment in the western sands. How he survived will be a mystery, I suppose. Aediphus promised immortality in return for unwavering loyalty from his men - we had thought Dragus and the others were more sensible than to believe in such childish stories. How were we to know the _underworld_ gods touched him?' his hands twisted into angry fists, 'That monster could have taken on the whole damn Legion! Our weapons were like air to him! He did not have to send so many soldiers to their deaths. He did it for his own perverse amusement. Now he thinks he travels unfettered.'

Glaceius turned and began to limp up the hill. Vandal called after him, 'Where are you going?'

'I found some horses. Survivors of our small cavalry detachment. I mean to ride back to the Legatus's Soothsayer and find out what he knows about this.'

'Soothsayer? What are you talking about?'

'The Soothsayer sent us on this quest to stop Aediphus. He, the _Legatus_ and a select few knew what his true motives were. I am going to make him tell me.'

Vandal stood and hurried over the Roman, 'Aren't you a Centurion? Wouldn't they have told you too?'

'No doubt the men informed you about my father's fall from the Senate. The Legatus and his officers did not like me. Only the goodwill of the men under my command managed to retain my position. It was easier to post me far in the north, away from my Praetorian Guard,' Glaceius turned and looked into Vandal's eyes for the first time, 'I thank you for your service but it has reached an end. Your duty to the Roman Army is concluded,' his eyes swept over the land 'There is no more 12th Legion. You can return from wherever it is you call home.'

'Listen pal, nothing would give me more pleasure. But I don't even know how the hell I got here in the first place.'

'Then pick a direction. It matters little. You're free.'

'And what are you going to do after you speak to this Soothy guy?'

'Aediphus is still a threat to Rome. I must try to stop him from whatever he intends to do. I see now that he has far more power than anyone ever believed possible. There must be a reason he came here instead of Rome directly. Find whatever you need among the ruins and go. There is a small village a few leagues to the east. Perhaps you may even come across a map. I would try to stay away from any roving parties you may come across. You fought well earlier, but no doubt you would run out of stones to throw.'

Vandal bristled at that, 'What the hell are you going to do? You have a hole in your leg the size of Nebraska!'

'I will manage. The demon that is Aediphus must be stopped. I am all that remains between him and whatever goal he seeks.'

'He's no demon,' muttered Vandal, an idea forming slowly in his mind, 'not quite.'

Vandal watched the Roman slowly make his way to the top of the hill. He could just see over it, noticing three horses wandering a field untouched by the dead. One of them, ironically enough, was the packhorse that woke him to this mess. Looking back, he saw his friend Marcus. The only colour in his view was the bright cloth clutched in his dead hand.

_Home_, Vandal thought. _What is there for me? Back to drinking myself to death? I do not know why I'm here, but come to think of it, I don't know why I was _ there _ ethier. What was it I heard once,_ Vandal brow furrowed in remembrance,_ "The best way to honour the dead is to be the person they thought you were." Marcus thought I was something I was not, he would have followed Glaceius to hell and back. Christ, he did! Maybe I should too. Maybe I already have._

Vandal reached down and picked the broken pilum, holding a two-foot long piece of the shaft. He examined it, then shoved it into his belt.

'I see you have an extra horse,' he shouted after Glaceius.

* * *

The two men rode all day until it was too dark for them to continue. Glaceius said the Soothsayer's camp was not far, they would be there in the morning. Vandal could almost make out a small fire some distance away. At least they were finally free from the sound of the damn vultures.

They spoke little. Whatever patience Glaceius had left vanished trying to show Vandal how to ride. Several times the rather large man had slid off the saddle and fell to the ground. After awhile, Glaceius had ridden some distance away. Vandal truly believed the packhorse was mocking him. Again.

Once he was stable riding the animal, he pulled out the broken staff and the _pugio _ and began to whittle. It was something that he took up when he played in the minors, to pass the time as he waited in the dugout. It relieved his tension and passed the time.

Night came and they selected their camp, close to a stream and away from the path. Glaceius had grown grimmer when they noticed another set of tracks along the road. Vandal was about to ask about it then wisely reconsidered. Instead, he gathered wood and tried to light a fire. After a few minutes of staring at the wood and trying to imagine how to do it without matches, Glaceius shoved him out of the way. He instead took the job of filling their water skins.

He sat by the water, staring at his reflecting in the moonlit dappled water. He scarecly recognized the face looking back at him. Covered in dirt, blood, scruffy from several days worth of beard, eyes sunken and hollow; he looked like a different man. His old self seemed far away from the realm he found himself in. The sudden glow of a new fire sprang up over his shoulder, Glaceius reading their meal. He had caught some sort of bird in the forest.

Vandal wondered at all of it. Only a few weeks ago he would have considered these people primitive and himself far superior. Now, faced with a new perspective, he recognized his ability to drive a car, use an ATM, a computer and sit on his ass with a television remote amounted to very little real value. He knew nothing on how to survive without driving to a store and buying prepared food. He had managed to stop those two soldiers the other night but that was more attributed to surprise than anything else. Had Glaceius not stopped that third soldier he would have been a dead man. He stood no chance against them one on one. He returned to the fire, hunkering down and pulling out his whittling. Slivers of wood flew into the fire, flashing in bright sparks.

Glaceius finally broke the silence, 'So where is it that you come from?'

'Place called America. It's a big country, and the best around. You can believe that.'

'I have never heard of it.'

'Well, it's pretty far from here. In more ways than one.'

'So what is your country like? Do they all speak as strangely as you do?'

What?'

'I scarcely know what you are saying half the time. What is a 'Nebraska' anyway? And who is this 'fuck' you continually call on? Is it a god?'

Vandal smiled, the first true smile he could remember in some time, 'No, not really.'

'You must be rich there, or some sort of servant then. No offense, but you seem to have had a soft life.'

'No. I was kinda an athlete. Played a game called baseball.'

'Ah, I see. You were paid well then?'

'Not too badly. I drank most of it though. Threw it all away too. Then I woke up here. Story of my life.'

'It is lucky you did. Despite your touted greatness of your country, you would not manage out here. Unable to ride a horse, hunt, start a fire, wield a sword.'

'Let's change the subject shall we? Something beside how crappy I am?' he thought a moment, 'Should we keep this fire light? Those two men I knocked out may have followed us.'

'They are dead.'

'What?'

"I killed them. We were in no condition for another fight. I could barely stand and you caught them off guard. I do not think you would have managed in hand-to-hand.'

Vandal stared at his hands for a moment. Looking up, he faced Glaceius eye to eye, 'I can't kill a person, Glaceius. No matter how much armour I wear or how much you show me to use a _gladius,_ I'll never be a soldier like you. I can't kill a man.'

Glaceius nodded and pointed back to the road, 'Those tracks, those are our men. Rather, our _Tribune _. The six officers who attend to the Legatus, led by the _Tribunus Laticlavius _. Only four survived and they travelled this way. I saw the Legatus's group leave the battle when he fell to Aediphus. They ran away. I did not think they would have headed _this_ way, however. Cowards. The Tribunus was not a true soldier, merely using his position as a stepping stone into the Senate.'

'Can't really blame them, pal. Maybe not everyone is hell-bent on getting his ass kicked like you are.'

'Watch your tongue. You address an officer in the Roman Legion.'

'As I recall, I'm not part of your army. You dismissed me, remember?'

Glaceius' eyes shot up and centered on Vandal, anger flashing on his tired face. Then he smiled wearily, laughing a little, 'True enough, Vandal. True enough.'

'Besides,' Vandal said, stretching out and reading himself for sleep, 'you owe this crappy ex-soldier your life.'

Vandal curled into his bedroll and was soon fast asleep, too exhausted to even dream. For a long time Glaceius sat staring at him, night slowly closing in as his thoughts surrounded him.

* * *

They rode off at the first sign of the morning star. Vandal was stiff and sore but the ride shook it off. He actually found himself enjoying the exercise. Soon, they could make out the Soothsayer's tent. Five horses surrounded it. Glaceius tugged on the reins of his horse and brought it to a stop.

'Those men will take you back to our fortress to the south. More than likely they will return to Rome with the news and to mask their cowardice to the Emperor. By the time they arrive they will have convinced themselves they are heroes.'

'Hey, maybe they'll help you with stopping Aediphus.'

'They know what Aediphus seeks and still they remain here, with their horses loaded for travel.'

'Yeah, well, why are you going then?'

'I am a citizen of Rome and an officer in her army. I have taken a pledge to protect her and her people. Unlike these men, my position is not for money and power but for honor,' his face became cold, 'and I will not allow all those needless deaths to go unpunished and forgotten.'

'You're a soldier, they are soldiers. What makes them so different? They don't feel obligated like you do.'

'They are politicians. Usually a Legatus will have veteran soldiers as his advisors but not ours. He had dreams of Senate sponsorship as do these men. Their ambition blinds them to the true needs and dangers of Rome.'

Vandal leaned back in his saddle and felt the whittled shaft press against the small of his back. He had no intention of heading off to Rome and leaving Glaceius but for now he would keep those thoughts to himself. Following the Centurion, they moved towards the large tent. Drawing closer, they saw four men stand to meet them. The apparent leader, the _Tribunus Laticlavius,_ waved to Glaceius.

'Hail Centurion,' the Tribunus said, 'We thought no one survived the battle. It gladdens our hearts to see it is none other the Glaceius himself.'

'Survived due to no help from you, Tribunus.'

The Tribunus blinked, taken aback. One of men behind him spoke up, 'Careful Centurion. The Tribunus is in charge now. We all witnessed the death of the Legatus at the hands of the demon Aediphus.'

'You Tribunes hold no authority over me. No longer. I have seen your true selves and they are not Roman.'

'Centurion Glaceius,' the Tribune yelled angrily, 'you would be advised...'

'Shut up, Tribune. Least I run you through for cowardice in the face of the enemy.'

That got the men's attention. They Tribunes formed around the Laticlavius and cradled their weapons. Vandal shifted uncomfortably, looking back and forth between the two men. The Laticlavius was obviously nervous, sweat coating his face. Glaceius was unflinching. Outnumbered, outgunned, injured, his reputation was such that even four to one the Romans gave pause before challenging him.

The Laticlavius laughed after a moment, 'Oh, Glaceius. I suppose the past days events has left you rattled. We will forget your comment and not tell the Senate when we return to Rome.'

Glaceius remained unmoving. His eyes never left the Laticlavius.

'Besides, there are four of us! I doubt your soldier here would be much help. We all saw him in a drunken stupor outside the camp. Why the Legatus put him under your command is beyond me. He is no Roman - his armour barely fits around his stomach!' The other Tribunes laughed at this, slapping each other on the back. Glaceius's cold voice cut the laughter cleanly.

'This man is more Roman than you lot. He saved my life. He could have ran, hid in the hills. Instead he saw I was in trouble and assisted me without once considering his own safety. Can you say the same?' Glaceius stepped up to the Laticlavius, setting his face inches away from the officer, 'But you...you ran. Ran like children. Ran away as fast as your mounts could carry you, away from the men you ordered to die,' Glaceius's voice became a bellow, 'Ordered them to a fate _you did not have the spine to share!'_

Rage crossed the faces of the men. Vandal was surprised to find his hand on his own gladius, as surprised as he was about Glaceius' words about him. The Laticlavius shouted something about 'gone too far', his men drawing their blades. Glaceius remained where he stood, not drawing his blade, his demeaner as if these men did not dignify such an action. Vandal believed the Laticlavius would cut him and Glaceius still would not blink. Then, when all seemed lost except for the fight, the tent flap flew open.

'Enough!'

A man stepped out, robes bellowing around him, leaning heavily on a staff adorned with an eagle. He was middle aged but impossibly thin. His claw-like hands separated the men.

'Stop this maddness! The gods have sent our Savior as foretold and you would throw it away for your petty bickering.'

The Laticlavius looked confused, 'Glaceius is our savior?'

'No you fool,' the Soothsayer proclaimed, _'He is!'_ One bony finger pointed at Vandal.

'You must be joking,' Glaceius and the Laticlavius whispered.

* * *

Go To Part VI


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter VI: Beginnings of an End**

Jackson Vandal stood gap-mouthed, trying to formulate words but nothing would come out. The other Romans around him had no such problems.

The Laticlavius was yelling now, his face a deep shade of purple, 'Are you seriously trying to tell me that this...this uncouth _barbarian_ is the saviour you've been talking about? The one that was supposed to save our Legion?'

'Not the Legion Laticlavius, but the Empire itself. Perhaps the world.'

The Laticlavius sputtered at this, his entourage wide-eyed and far too shocked to respond. Vandal staggered a little, now firmly convinced that he had died somewhere and was in hell. Only Glaceius managed to speak.

'Soothsayer, I must protest. Are you trying to say that Vandal is some sort of...I don't know what. A saviour of the Empire? Of the _ world?'_

'Indeed. The gods have told me so. They told me to wait for their saviour to arrive and that you, Glaceius, Centurion of the Roman Army, would bring him to me,' he waved his arm, a happy smile on his face, 'and here you are!'

'At the cost of the entire Legion, Soothsayer! At the cost of the Legatus and hundreds of other men! Vandal survived because of the sacrifice of my best soldier, not because of any heroic effort on his part. I owe him my life but I will not believe that he is some Redeemer or Hero from on high.'

'The gods do not care what you believe in Glaceius, only that you do not try to deny your fate. Vandal knows the truth, don't you?' The Soothsayer turned his eyes towards the man, glinting in good humour and truths untold. Vandal could say nothing, too dumbfounded. Glaceius turned to the Laticlavius.

'Did you know anything about this nonsense? Did the Legatus?'

The Laticlavius sighed deeply, 'The Soothsayer told the Legatus that a great danger was on the land in the form of Aediphus. He had obtained some sort of dark power from the Pharaoh priests in the east and intended to use it against Rome. Supposedly there is some kind of artifact in the hills to the north that Aediphus needs to complete his 'transition'.'

'What does this have to do with Vandal?'

'The Soothsayer said that the gods visited him in a dream and told him that they would send a warrior to fight Aediphus, as there was no one here that could stop him.'

'And this dream, when was it?'

'The night before Vandal arrived in our camp,' the Soothsayer said.

The Laticlavius again began to yell in indignation, 'This slob is what the gods have sent? He reeked of booze and vomit when the Legatus found him. The gods did not send him, he fell off a wagon in a drunken stupor!'

'Hercules was a drunk, and he son of Zeus. Would you slur his name too?'

The Laticlavius screamed at the top of his lungs, his words echoing off the distant mountains, 'Are you _ seriously_ comparing this idiot to Hercules?'

'Enough talk. What I have to say is not for the ears of politicians such as yourself, Laticlavius. It is for the men of action who change the world, not those that would legislate it,' the Soothsayer held back the fold of the tent, 'Enter Glaceius. Enter Jackson Vandal. We would have words.'

Both entered, feeling the eyes of the Laticlavius and his men burning into their backs.

* * *

Vandal licked his lips, unsure of what to say, 'Your, um, superiors are pretty mad.'

'They are not my superiors anymore. They should thank the gods I did not kill them,' Glaceius responded.

The Soothsayer busied himself preparing some sweet-smelling tea. The tent was cool and spacious. A variety of benches with comfortable blankets tossed over them were arrayed around a small fire. The Soothsayer passed around the tea, some cheese and bread for the tired men. Once his guests were situated, he leaned back and spoke to Glaceius.

'I have been watching your career with some interest, Centurion. I am pleased.'

'We're the same age, Soothsayer. Knock it off. I remember you having your 'prediction of the future' fits for the travelers in the city square when we were young. How you managed to fool the Legatus for so long was beyond me.'

The Soothsayer laughed, 'Indeed. I would throw the bones, read the chicken entrails, that sort of thing. Say something ominous and the Legatus would fill my chest with coin. But then...then the gods came to me. That, I swear is not a lie. They came to me, Glaceius, and told me to await the saviour. Here he is.'

'Madness.'

'Is it? What do you think Vandal?'

Vandal felt ill, trying hard not to vomit. He had not felt this way since he first stepped on to ball field, another lifetime ago. 'Do you know how I got here, how I can get home?'

'And home, where is that?' The Soothsayer asked, smiling.

'He comes from some place called America. I have never heard of it and I know all the countries nearby. It does not exist,' Glaceius was angry, his patience at an end.

'Correct, Glaceius. It does not exist. At least not yet.'

Glaceius choked on his tea, 'Not yet? _ Not yet?_ What, he comes from tomorrow or something?'

'Yes. From the far distant future. What is time to the gods? What are we but pawns in a game we cannot see or understand? Its rules are hidden from us. Aediphus has somehow worked magic that goes against the laws that govern us all. Why should the gods act any different? Vandal here has been sent to help us.'

'Vandal cannot fight. Even if he could, Aediphus is immune to any weapons we have. He is faster and stronger than any man I have seen on the field, and was run through uncounted times. He did not fall once! How could someone who can't fight or even hold a _ gladius_ properly possibly stop him?'

'He does not know these things because where he comes from, he does not need these things. The gods sent him to us, to you, to protect him. They have even allowed him to speak our language and understand what we say.'

'That explains some of the strange terms he uses...'

'Indeed. What say you Vandal?'

Vandal placed his head in his hands and cradled it, rubbing the temples, 'Why me? I don't understand...why me?'

'Why _ not_ you? It has to be someone. You do not give yourself enough credit, Vandal. And I am sure there is a reason why they have sent you. All of us have a destiny. Some choose to act on it, some do not. The rarity is those that have their fate forced on them.'

'If he does not know why he was sent here, how are we supposed to know?' Glaceius asked, 'We do not have time to find out. Vandal is useless to us! What can he do against the demon Aediphus?'

Vandal raised his head tiredly, reaching behind him and removing the broken shaft of Marcus's weapon. He had whittled it into a sharp point, the handle crafted to mimic the handle of his gladius. He stared at the point a moment longer. Then he spoke.

'I know how to kill Aediphus.'

* * *

Glaceius was dumb-founded, staring at the carved weapon, 'A piece of wood? How can a piece of wood do that demon any harm? He was stabbed with every weapon in the Legion and walked away!'

Vandal sighed, suddenly tired, 'I guess he's not a demon, Glaceius. And this piece of wood could kill him, if we drive it through his heart. Funny,' he though aloud, 'how much you can believe in when you open the door a crack. Just a few days ago, I was drinking in a bar wondering how I was going to pay the rent. Now here I am sitting in front of a fire with some Romans explaining how to kill a vampire.' He laughed then, the Romans looking at each other worryingly.

'It is a lot to take in, Jackson,' the Soothsayer said soothingly, 'Not all of us become tools of the gods.'

'No, just the lucky ones like me. Why, I managed to see a good man die yesterday.'

'If this continues, if Aediphus completes what he plans, then many more will die. And the world you know, the world you come from, will cease to be. You will truly have no home. We must talk more, alone. Glaceius, you are familiar with this area?'

'Yes. I've been posted here for some time. My family is from here as well.'

'Are you familiar with the Temple of Arnack?'

'That old place? It is a pagan temple - even the barbarians no longer go there. Is that where Aediphus goes?'

'Yes. I know you will not rest until Aediphus is stopped. Assemble your horses and whatever supplies you need. I must speak with Jackson.'

Glaceius nodded and left the tent, shooting a dark look at Vandal. The two men were silent a long moment. Then Vandal said, 'I could just tell him how to kill Aediphus. If anyone can do it, that guy could.'

'You had plenty of time to tell him. You even made a weapon without telling him what is for. Why is that?'

'Marcus,' Vandal said quietly, 'Marcus would have tried to stop him and he saved me. I owe him that.'

'True enough.'

'What do you know about Aediphus anyway? Why is he here? You know what he is after don't you?'

The Soothsayer nodded, 'Yes. We are different from them, you and I. We believe in things we cannot see. I because of my trade and you because circumstances forces you to think along a different track. Now, we shall speak of things the soldiers would only scoff at. They would die, you know, without you. They would trust in their sword arm to the last, thinking they would be different from the multitude of men Aediphus slew. But now, now the future has a chance to become the past...'

The Soothsayer's eyes faded, becoming distant as he told what he knew, 'Aediphus wanted power, as most men do. But he wanted it now, without rising through the ranks. He bought his way into the Senate but it was not enough. He wanted to rule, to become Caesar. But the others saw his madness and knew such a thing must not come to pass. They discovered his bribery. Not a grand crime by any means, most of the Senators did it but it gave them the chance they needed. They threw him from Rome and banished him to the desert to the East. 

'However, Aediphus chanced on some dark priests who themselves were cast from Egypt. They had experimented in evil rites, rites that even the underworld gods forbade. They had been used to attempt to extend the lives of the Pharaohs, but only created monsters. The price of immortality is always high, more than likely one's humanity. But Aediphus was mad, and agreed to the priests casting their death spells on him. The priests wanted mastery over death and Aediphus saw it as a true opportunity to elevate himself to another plane.

That day was a dark one. Those of us felt the change in the natural law. Aediphus became something other, something beyond dead...'

'Undead,' Vandal said, 'We call them vampires. Although, they are supposed to be fictional.'

'As are the gods and time travel, yes?' The Soothsayer laughed, 'As you said, once you accept one belief you can be amazed at what you can accept as the truth.

'Yes, the spell cast hid Aediphus from the eyes of Anubis, the death god. But the spell was not complete. One piece was missing, one very important piece. The priests had hoped their spell would work without it, as they had some time to refine the dark magic. However, long ago the components of the spell had been wisely hidden away. The priests had found all of them but one, the most important one. The Stone of Ra.'

'Ra?'

'The sun god. The Stone of Ra was given to Isis when she raised her husband, Osiris. Although that story has changed over time and the Stone was conveniently left out. Without the stone, the resurrection spells do not work, as it is a binding agent. If Aediphus manages to obtain the Stone and complete the spell then the rays of Ra, the sun, will no longer harm him. He would be free to walk among the living in day or night.'

'You knew that Aediphus could not go into the sun and still let the Romans attack him at night?'

'No...I only figured it out later, when the Laticlavius told me about the battle and the power he possessed. I prayed that you would come. No one can stop him, Vandal. No one here knows how to kill him. That knowledge will not become known for some time.'

'These Romans, they aren't going to help Glaceius, are they?'

'No. There is only the two of you.'

Vandal nodded and looked at the shaft of wood, 'Tell me, is it my fate to stop Aediphus? Is that why I am here?'

'No, fate does not work that way. You are here only to _ try_ to stop him. Our fates are guided but not set in stone.'

'Great,' Vandal said wearily, 'Just great.'

* * *

Vandal and the Soothsayer emerged from the tent to find Glaceius reading fresh horses. A short distance away the Laticlavius sat on the ground, nursing a bloody nose as his entourage attended to him, hovering like flies. Vandal smiled at the Centurion. Glaceius merely shrugged.

'We need fresh mounts. The Laticlavius seemed against the loan of his steed. He changed his mind.'

'I see that,' Vandal said, laughing. He climbed on the other horse, taking the reins Glaceius held out for him.

'Are you sure about this, Vandal?' He asked.

'No,' he answered. He thanked the Soothsayer, taking the waterskin the older man handed to him. Glaceius said his goodbye and rode off, never looking back at his former officers. The Soothsayer did not wait for goodbyes, instead retiring to his tent. There was nothing more to say - the only thing left were the actions the men had to take. All three of them understood this. 

The Laticlavius watched them, holding his scarf to his damaged nose. His anger had a palatable air around him.

'Ready our remaining horses and the ones that bastard left,' he ordered.

'Where are we headed for, Laticlavius?'

'Back to the fortress to the south,' he looked to one of his men, an older man, 'Your spies should be there by now, yes?'

'Yes sir. They were only a few days ride away.'

'Excellent,' his eyes narrowed shrewdly. The others gathered around, recognizing the look of the gears working in his head, 'We'll return to the fortress. Then, we'll send our spies out into the field. No word will be sent to Rome until I say so. If Glaceius and that fat fool return, they will never set foot on Rome. Is that understood? As for as anyone knows, they died out here. Once they are dead we will return to Rome and inform the Caesar that we managed to defeat Aediphus. If Aediphus is victorious, we will send word to the remaining Legions to stop him and return ourselves to the Emperor to inform him of the danger. He will, no doubt, hail us as heros in that event. Mark my words, men. No one is to know what happened out here. From this point on, Glaceius and the 12th Legion are lost.'

'But that only leaves...'

'Yes,' the Laticlavius said, drawing his gladius, 'the Soothsayer. I will deal with him. Then, we leave this damned place.'

* * *

'I know an old path for us to take. If the Soothsayer is right about the old Temple, it will take us to it.'

'All righty,' Vandal said. Both men knew that the path would probably add some time to their travel, but neither man was about to go through the field of battle again, especially after a day had passed. Glaceius had been torn up that the men were not given the proper funeral rites, but some concessions had to be made.

'We should arrive in time,' Vandal said, more to himself than anyone else, 'Aediphus can't do it in the daylight. He can only travel at night. That doesn't leave much time for him. He didn't take any horses too, so he has to be on foot.'

'How do you know all this about Aediphus, Jackson? You do not strike me as a scholar.'

Vandal smiled. It did not escape him that it was the first time Glaceius called him by his first name, 'It's common knowledge where I come from. I used to be quite the fiction buff when I was a kid, used to eat up all that scary stuff. Vampires, werewolves, all sort of things. And to think my dad used to say it was a waste of time.'

'Learning never is. My nephew, he asks about everything. Why, why, why is all he seems to say.'

Any kids of your own?'

'No. The Legion is my family. As is Rome. Through serving her I serve her people. Through protecting her I protect my family.'

Vandal merely nodded, not really understanding the sentiment. They rode fast, in silence for awhile.

'So,' Glaceius ventured, 'You're from the future?

'Looks like it.'

'How far?'

'What?'

'How far ahead?'

Vandal thought a moment. He was a lousy at history, knowing very little. He figured asking Glaceius the date was useless. The Centurion was not about to answer with a date ending in Before Christ. Vandal snickered to himself, _ what the hell date did they use, anyway?_

'Quite a few years ahead, Glaceius. Quite a few centuries even. Wonder if this makes me really old or really young?'

'What of Rome?' He asked, barely hiding his eagerness, 'Does it still stand? The Empire?'

Vandal answered with no hesitation, 'Rome still stands. Other countries, like mine, sprang up. But...' he paused, looking for the correct words that would ease Glaceius. Finding them, he said 'The Roman Empire is still a wonder. Unrivaled by those around her. Don't mention its name, people say, or she'll hear you and come knocking on your door.'

Glaceius could not hide his pleasure.

* * *

The rode until nightfall, the nearly full moon bursting into the sky. They set up camp and dined on cheese and bread. Glaceius looked into the sky, watching the moon.

'If Aediphus is going to complete some sort of spell, chances are he'll have to wait for the full moon. The Egyptians worship a moon god known as Thoth, and center their magic around him. He also judges the dead. I would imagine this spell will have to be cast when his eye is 'open', as it where.'

'Yeah. Most of these occult crap you hear about is always on the full moon. So we have a day. Can we make it to the Temple in time?'

'Barely. It will be nightfall for sure.'

'So then, no chance of catching Aediphus napping, huh?'

'No. The Temple is located on the top of a steep cliff. All that remains there is a stone altar, nothing more. I do not see how an artifact could have been left there all this time.'

Vandal shrugged. He was so tired he was having trouble seeing straight. Glaceius walked over and examined the wooden stake Vandal had carved, 'It is apt that you crafted this from Marcus's weapon. Very fitting.'

'Yup. A kind of divine irony. We'll have to drive that through his chest.'

'This will kill him?'

'Nah. Then we'll have to cut off his head and burn the head and body. Then we have to scatter the ashes in separate locations. At least, that's what I remember.'

'Promise me, Jackson, that at least one of us will kill the monster.'

'I'd prefer both, actually.'

Glaceius laughed, his amusement holding a trace of bitterness, 'Sleep, my friend. Tomorrow...is tomorrow.'

* * *

The sun rose without fanfare the next morning. The two men gathered their things and quickly rode off, speaking very little. Glaceius led them around the battlefield on a little used game trail, almost completely grown over. Vandal had been worried about hearing the sound of the carrion birds, expecting a deafening cacophony all the way to the mountain pass. What he found was far worse.

Silence. No bird calls, no screech of the vultures. Nothing. At first he was perplexed and almost asked Glaceius about it, then noticed the Roman's face. It was set as hard as stone, his jaw muscles clenched so tightly they seemed about to burst. Tears rolled down his face unchecked. Vandal understood. There was no reason for the vultures to emit their piercing cries; their feast had begun. Vandal tried to think about it no more.

The trail led them to the edge of the mountains. Glaceius told Vandal that the path would wind around the mountain and emerge near the top, connecting to the path Aediphus and his men took. Vandal gazed at it, noticed it was too narrow for the horses. He climbed down and began to sort his equipment, taking only what he needed. A small amount of food, waterskins, and his weapons - the gladius and the carved stake. So intent was he with his unpacking that he did not notice Glaceius having trouble dismounting or his limp.

'Take off you armour, Jackson.'

'Why?'

'We need to move fast and as quietly as we can. In the pass the armour can be heard for miles,' he placed his belt around his shoulders so that his gladius sat high on his side, away from his legs. Then he wrapped his cloak around him tightly. Turning, he began the ascent. Vandal watched him go, his movement's stiff and measured. Glaceius was piling all his grief and rage solely onto Aediphus, the monster becoming the sole star that he steered towards. Vandal shuddered. He would not want to be the object of this man's rage, undead or not.

They climbed quick and sure, breathing heavy in the thinning air. The path, although narrow, was easy to climb. The walls of the mountain kept the sun away from them and cooled them off. They stopped infrequently, only resting because their strength would be needed when they reached the top. When they faced Aediphus.

It was at one of these stops, the sun beginning to descend into the horizon, that Vandal noticed a few drops of blood on the stone path. Looking up, he realized the straps of Glaceius's boot were painted red. His cloak had managed to hide it until then.

'Glaceius, your leg.'

'I know, Vandal. Do not let it slow you down. The path will meet up with the main one around this bend.'

'How bad is it?'

'Bad. But not so bad that I will let it stop me.'

Vandal was about to say more when they emerged on to the main path to the Temple. The sun slipped below the horizon, the stars beginning to bloom in the night sky. The tip of the full moon could be seen. There, on the path scattered about like broken toys, were the remains of Aediphus's officers.

Glaceius shook his head, 'Such is the reward for your loyalty, officers of the Legion of the Damned. Tell me, was it worth it?'

Vandal did not look away, amazed at how quickly he had become accustomed to the face of death. However, these men were different somehow. He examined them more closely. Their throats had been slashed, but no blood pooled from the wounds. _ They are bone dry,_ Vandal thought humorlessly. Glaceius hobbled over, his leg giving him much trouble.

'That one is Dragus. He was the Emperor's right hand man. Now look at him.'

'Aediphus killed them, but why?'

'The moon rises. We must hurry,' Glaceius turned and moved up the path, talking to Vandal over his shoulder, 'He must have needed them for some reason to bring them this far.'

'Blood,' Vandal said, the realization dawning on him, 'He must have needed a source of blood before he completed the spell. He brought them up here then killed them, sucking them dry. Then he waited for the night of the full moon.'

'He drinks blood? Truly he is a monster like no other.'

'Not for much longer,' Vandal whispered grimly. Strangely, he found that he was not afraid. Nervous and tense, yes, but he had no fear. He only wanted the night to be done.

Without warning, they found themselves before the Temple entrance.

* * *

Glaceius ducked behind the rocks, followed swiftly by Vandal. He gave a quick intake of breath, his leg buckling under him. He slapped his fist against it in a burst of anger, cursing. Vandal peeked around the rock and looked into the Temple.

The Temple was such in name only. All that remained was rough-hewn altar made of stone. A few steps led up to it. The entrance was nothing more than a passage between the mountain walls. On the other end of the small altar was a sheer drop. The echoing of the wind gave an indication of the height. Far below, the sound of crashing waves could be heard.

'This was a Temple to some water god, long forgotten. The drop is at least a thousand feet,' Glaceius whispered.

'Putting the Stone in an abandoned temple to a long lost god. Pretty clever.'

'Not clever enough.' The moon caught Glaceius's eyes. Both men stared at it for a long moment. A hint of red began to crawl across it.

'Lunar eclipse. If this gets any more dramatic, I'm gonna go friggin' nuts.'

Within the Temple, the sound of chanting could be heard. The men ventured another glimpse and saw Aediphus, still cloaked in his torn black robes. He seemed swollen somehow, like an overfed tick. His voice continued to rise in a spidery chant. In front of him was a simple stone, appearing no less different than the others scattered about the ground.

'He is about to cast his spell. Now is our chance,' Glaceius swung around and faced Vandal. 'I cannot move fast, Vandal. My leg is worse than I thought. You'll have to distract him long enough for me to get close.'

'Yeah, I should be able too. He's distracted,' Vandal reached around and began to draw the stake.

'Not yet. You do not stand a chance if you don't kill him in the first strike. If he sees us before we get close and discovers your weapon, we will never be able to use it. He may be immune to our swords, but it still will slow him down. I can hold him off and you stake him.'

Vandal nodded and drew his gladius. He knew from experience that it would not harm Aediphus but the vampire was still a physical presence in the world. The heavy sword buried into the top of his skull would more than likely slow him down. He crept out, his eyes never leaving the back of Aediphus.

* * *

Vandal used the rock fall for covering, moving swiftly and more silently than he thought possible. Aediphus continued the strange spell, his hands roaming over the Stone before him. He stole a quick glance and saw a carving on the Stone, a strange hieroglyph. It blended in with the cracks on the Stone perfectly. Above the drama unfolding, the moon slowly turned blood red.

Vandal crept up the steps, mindful of the loose rock and the noise it would create. The smell from Aediphus was atrocious, the smell of decay and death and filth. His black hair hung down, matted with the blood of his enemies. Vandal aimed for the part in the center and raised the weapon. _ For Marcus,_ he thought.

Without missing a word in his chant, Aediphus spun and struck Vandal square in the chest, sending the man flying. He flew clear over Glaceius's head, the Roman watching in dismay. Vandal landed on the stone ground, the crack of several ribs breaking audible. He groaned and remained still.

'I smell blood,' Aediphus said. His voice sounded as though it had been ground through gravel before emerging from his mouth. His eyes were pools of night; his canines long and pure white. Glaceius felt the droplets of blood down his leg and cursed.

'You would have had me if not for that wound, Roman. But I am afraid your fat friend is at a loss for now.'

Glaceius drew his weapon and stared at the vampire. His face betrayed no emotion.

'From the looks of you, I would say you are a Centurion. Yes, a veteran at that. Perhaps it is none other than the great Glaceius I see before me?'

Glaceius did not blink. Merely stood, holding his blade.

'Yes, Glaceius, greatest Centurion in the entire Roman Army. Come to avenge the loss of his fellows. I am glad it is someone with such a fine reputation. You will make a fine prophet for me.'

Glaceius eye moved a little at that, a mocking gesture.

'You, Centurion Glaceius,' Aediphus yelled, his spittle red and covering his chin in a fine web, 'will take word of my ascendance to the ears of the gods! The mortals in this world will worship me as their Emperor and as their new god! I will bring in a new age onto the land. My word will be law, my will be their fate!'

Glaceius sighed, gesturing with his weapon in a 'come here' fashion, 'You talk instead of fight. We're none of us getting any younger.'

Aediphus erupted in a blood-curdling scream of rage, grabbing his own gladius resting against the altar and hurled himself at Glaceius. Glaceius had almost no time to react to the quick move, barely knocking aside a blow that would have taken his head off. _ Wake up, Vandal_ he thought. _ I shall not last long._

The two warriors clashed in the temple, Glaceius the more skilled swordsman. He parried the attacks easily, slashing back with his weapon but to no avail. Whenever he struck, Aediphus would take the hit and return the favour. The vampire had no worries about injuries - the metal blade may as well have been made from air. Glaceius began to stagger, his badly injured leg slowly giving out. He fell against the stairs, desperately blocking strike after strike. His hand became numb from the repeated blows; Aediphus being far stronger than any opponent he had ever faced. Aediphus began to laugh when the Roman kicked out with his good leg and connected with the vampire's groin, sending him off balance. Glaceius turned and ran up the stairs to the top of the altar.

* * *

_ Vandal._

Vandal. Wake up.

VANDAL! WAKE UP!

Vandal jerked back to consciousness, coughing up blood. His side hurt badly, the sound of the clashing weapons ringing in his ears.

* * *

Glaceius crashed against the small altar, bracing himself against it and swinging his blade, deflecting another blow aimed for his head. Aediphus was wild now, swinging madly. Glaceius bottled his emotions, relying on instinct. Aediphus lashed out with his weapon, aiming for the Roman's heart. Glaceius again blocked it, reversing his move and driving the hilt into the vampire's stomach. Aediphus grunted, more from surprise more than anything else. Glaceius then raised the blade above is head and drove the hilt into the back of Aediphus's head, forcing him to his knees. Placing one of his hands on the altar, he drove his good knee into Aediphus jaw and sent him tumbling back down the stairs.

'Monster or not,' Glaceius said gasping, 'You still can't fight worth a shit.'

'You will pay for your insolence, Roman. I will...'

Glaceius threw his weapon, smashing it squarely into the vampire's face. A cry of rage and surprise burst from him as he fell once more to the ground. Aediphus rose, beginning to laugh realizing his opponent was now weaponless. Then he saw the Roman had the Stone in his hand.

'You should not have let me get close to this, Aediphus.'

Aediphus reply was to leap at the Roman, his speed frightening. But not so fast to prevent the Centurion from hurling the Stone out over the precipice. It flashed in the red moonlight, then disappeared from view. Gone.

Aediphus scream was inarticulate, anger not a powerful enough word for the emotion it contained. The very walls of the Temple shook with the awful power that poured out of him. Aediphus continued to speak without forming true words, just frothing in a stream of nonsensical madness. Glaceius staggered against the altar, his leg finally giving out. Aediphus stared at his enemy as though his very gaze would consume the helpless man. Then he drove his sword into the Roman's back with all the strength he could muster.

Glaceius was lifted back to his feet from the blow, his hands gripping the blade that burst through his chest. He could feel the hilt against his spine.

'I will burn your precious Rome for this Glaceius! Do you hear me! I will _ destroy it!'_

Glaceius turned to the vampire, his eyes matching the anger he saw. His breath bubbled with blood but his rage carried him on. Stepping forward, he lunged at Aediphus, embracing the vampire and driving the sword point into his belly, pinning the two enemies together. Aediphus struggled and fought but could not free himself from the sword and Glaceius's deathgrip.

'Fool! What do you hope to accomplish by this?'

'This,' Vandal said behind him, and drove the stake into Aediphus's heart.

Aediphus stiffened from the blow, feeling his power drain immediately from him. On the other planes where only he could see, Death turned towards him and smiled.

'No.' he whispered, his face slowly fading away. He swayed, bumping against the altar and pitching over it. Vandal made a quick grab, catching only torn robes.

'Glaceius!' he yelled. He caught a fleeting glimpse of the Roman soldier as the two fell over the cliff. They fell to the surf, a thousand feet below.

* * *

For a long time Vandal sat by the altar, feeling nothing. Emptiness. Loss. A complete vacuum. _ Why?_ He thought. _ Why?_

_ You have served us well, Jackson Vandal._

Vandal looked around. The voice was the same that woke him. It seemed to be everywhere, in his head, the air, the very rocks around him. He tried to rise but collapsed, his injured ribs not to eager to support him.

'What the hell was all this about? I deserve that much? Is it like the Soothsayer said? A damn game?'

_ The twilight of the gods is upon us, Jackson. We have guided mankind as far as we can. Now comes the time of the true Gods. Consider this to be a final act of thanks._

'Thanks? How many people had to die?' Vandal yelled, his eyes blurring with grief, 'Marcus, Glaceius...all dead. All those soldiers, for what? _ FOR WHAT?'_

_ Indeed. For what? Had Aediphus been allowed to complete his transition, what do you suppose would have happened?_

Vandal said nothing, too tired and broken.

_ Those men would have died anyway, and many, many more. Aediphus would have been immortal. He would have claimed the throne of the Empire and expanded it to encompass the known world. He had the time to do it, the arcane knowledge to complete it, and the ability to create entire armies of his ilk._

'There must have been another way to do this...'

_ Mankind cannot be forced into actions, Jackson Vandal. Merely guided. By bringing you here, we...hedged our bets, you could say. The knowledge on how to kill Aediphus would not be known for almost three thousand more years. We had no choice but to bring you here._

'Why me?'

_ The past is already written, the fact that you are here shows you would succeed. We needed someone who had the ability, knowledge, and did not matter a great deal in the grand scheme of things._

'Gee, thanks.'

_ You succeed, Jackson. Does that not show why we choose you?_

'I still don't understand all this saviour crap. Save the world and stuff.'

_ Jackson, did you not listen to what we are trying to tell you? If Aediphus would have succeeded, becoming the Roman leader and spreading his influence on to the land, what would have happened?_

'I don't know my history, sorry...'

_ He would have recognized the signs of the coming of the true Gods, Vandal. And moved to prevent it. He would have succeeded in this, too._

Vandal looked around him, then up at the brightening sky, 'What are you saying...'

_ We have said enough. There is plenty of time for you to dwell on what we have told you. Now, there is only home._

'Home?'

_ Yes. Goodbye, Vandal. You will understand all of this one day. Till then, remember all that has happened. You may find it useful after a time. You have our thanks._

Vandal closed his eyes, as the world around him faded away.

* * *

**END**


End file.
